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COPYRIGHTED, 1 898, BY 
CHAS. F. WHALEY. 



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PREFACE 



My excuse for inflicting my very small circle of 
friends with what follows is that I am a cripple (men- 
tally). 

At nineteen years of age I had a severe attack of 
orthodoxy, which left me in a state of mind bordering 
upon imbecility. I seemed then to have lost the power 
to reason logically upon any subject. Long years of 
patient study and careful thought, however, have 
brought me out upon what seems to me a logical base, 
and restored to some extent, at least, my mental equi- 
librium. Realizing that during the next century there 
will be extant throughout the world a theology, found- 
ed upon absolute, demonstrable scientific facts ; a the- 
ology of truth, unencumbered by superstition, dogma 
or creed ; an appeal to the selfish hearts of men, for 
right-living and the higher life ; a code of moral law, 
for men to subscribe to and live by, for the sake of the 
principles inculcated therein, without fear of punish- 
ment or hope of reward ; a theology without competi- 
tion or policy, free from trade, barter or profit ; there- 
fore my friends, I beseech you, be patient and read this, 
my first sermon, which is dedicated to rationalism, by 

the 

AUTHOR. 



Dawn of tbc Cwentictb Century. 



And now, since all the world seems wrought awry, 

And all the elements are prone to thirst 

For human life, vying with each other 

In the fierce melee, the frost, the fire, the flood. 

And fierce death-dealing storms ; all waging war 

Upon the human race ; and since our songs 

Have turned to sighs, and all our smiles to tears, 

The cyclone's path paved with our dear ones, dead ; 

Killed at their shrines, while on their knees in prayer. 

And so-called sacred wars are prevalent 

In which the aged sire and tender babe 

Are butchered by defenders of a faith ; 

Hamlets are burned, and lands are laid to waste, 

And maids and matrons throng some holy place 

And falling on their knees in prayer, beseech 

Almighty God to send deliverance : 

And while they pray for help in comes a mob 

Of brutal men who satiate their lust 



Then draw their swords and in the name of God 
Proceed to kill their victims by the score ; 
Until their blood o'erfills the sacred place 
And runs, a crimson flood, out at the door. 
And since each cup of life is boiling o'er 
With bitterness, and fear fills every heart, 
And as in days of yore men fly to caves 
For shelter ; wherefore should I pray ? How shall 
I frame my prayer ? *' Thy will be done" 
Thy will ? God's will ? And what have I to do 
Or say concerning the Almighty's will ? 
" Not mine, but thine." How cheap that man 
Must hold his God who thus can barter with 
Him for a recompense. " Not mine, but thine." 
What condescension ! As in parliament 
Some wig on legs stands up, and boldly says 
**„My Lord, this law of mine I would perforce 
Have spread upon the statute books of state. 
But cognizance of your superior rank 
And common courtesy, compels me to 
Withdraw the same, and vote for yours instead." 
Concealing thus in mock humility 
His selfishness, and hoping in his heart 
Some special favor from his Lord to gain. 
And is the Lord to have his way at last ? 



Who ever saw it otherwise ? The law 

Of God is true, as He himself is true, 

Immutable, unchangeable, and true 

No law of God was ever changed by prayer. 

What then ? Shall I, like Ajax in the storm 

In bold defiance stand ? Ah no, indeed 

This were more useless than the prayer, 

For secret prayer if on contrition fed 

May justify the suppliant, but prayer 

In any public place, like other sounds 

But serves to break the stillness of the air. 

And its effect upon its auditors 

Depends upon its eloquence entire. 

" Give us this day our daily bread :" Indeed ! 

What right have I to bread I have not earned ? 

I'd rather far do honest toil to win 

My bread, than beg it. Dependence is a 

Bitter sauce, not suited to my palate ; 

For well I know if I in idleness 

Be fed, some man, somewhere, is doing two 

Men's work. 

Into temptation lead us not, 
This neither will I pray ; but rather seek 
For strength of purpose, and the love of truth 
Sufficient to withstand temptation's test. 



Without temptation, virtue, like a plant 

Grown in a vault, without the light of day, 

Is but a pale and sickly thing at best. 

" Forgive our debts." Alas ! what ignominy. 

None but a coward soul, with selfish aims 

Could thus beseech a just and changeless God 

To set aside a universal law 

In his behalf. No ! I will pay my debts. 

For all transgressions of the law of God ; 

For every trespass, be it great, or small, 

I wish to pay ; (as pay I must at last. 

E'en to the uttermost ;) that none shall say 

This man is a defaulter and paid not ; 

Another for him intercession made. 

Another took his sins upon himself 

And suffered in his stead. Alas ! if this 

Be true and all responsibility 

Is changed, and lost, by such ingenious slights, 

And satisfied are all demands of law 

By such a scheme, and justice put to sleep, 

How cheap a thing a seat in Heaven must be 

To him who holds it by no merit of 

His own. 

Put by your books ; take off your beads ; 
Remove the shackles of a senseless creed 

10 



From off your prisoned souls, and stand erect. 

Let nature's fragrant breeze, and sun of truth. 

Dispel the clouds of superstitious fear 

Which, rising from the past, befog your sight. 

Give thought her pinions and invite her flight ; 

Remove the hoodwink from your reason's eyes 

And let us henceforth learn the law of God ; 

The true and ever perfect law of God, 

As it is graven on a blade of grass, 

A field of grain or in the sturdy oak. 

The violet, mirrored in a silent pool 

Can teach you more of God's unwritten law. 

His real law, than all the theorists 

Could cram into your life though you should live 

A thousand years. A pebble in your path; 

A chip of granite from the quarry brought, 

A sermon holds of grand and vital truth ; 

A truth beyond dispute ; this piece of rock 

Was once a molten mass of of nebulae ; 

Hence, we do hold in this small bit of stone 

The magic key with which we may unlock 

The universe. Put by your charms, and think. — 

Though you should hire a very demi-God 

And fee him well to reason in your stead. 

You will not get the kernel of his thought ; 



11 



Naught but the flimsy husk will you receive. 

And though he be an honest man, and strive 

With honest care his office to fulfill 

His labor must be futile, he will fail, 

For, know you this, that every human soul 

Is circumscribed by three environments. 

Three distinct and separate lives we live ; 

One to the public, or the world at large. 

Another to our friends, and loved ones dear, 

And yet another to ourselves and — God. 

Within this inner, sacred, shrine of shrines. 

Where conscience dwells, none enters but the King ; 

The sacred thoughts that here we entertain 

Are infinite, and know no finite law ; 

And can no more be blurted out in words 

Than we can bail the sea, or stop the earth ; 

And you may know a man who thus communes 

With nature's God, in silent, sacred thought. 

By radiant glory shining in his face, 

And by his acts, not by his length of prayer. 

And should you fee a rogue to think for you 
Your soul will dine on chaflf. Straightway he makes 
Two images, the one he gilds with brass 
And calls a God ; behold it ! how it shines ! 

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How fearful and how wonderful its make, 
Come not too near, the light will strike you blind. 
Stand thou afar, and worship through the rogue. 
He is the oracle, he has the pass. 

The second is more frightful than the first ; 

It has a tail, and horns, its garb is black ; 

Its eyes are balls of fire, its breath a flame ; 

Within its scaly hand it holds a spear, 

A trident, made of tempered steel, and barbed 

With which to pierce its victims to the heart. 

And thus equipped, and knowing well your fear. 

The rogue confronts you with his stock in trade 

And sells indulgences against their wrath ; 

And smiling at your superstitious fear 

He reasons thus : *' Where ignorance is bliss 

Tis folly to be wise." " 'Twere better thus, 

The mother of obedience was daft. 

And those who know the least, do pay the most ; 

The church is helped and our God glorified." 

Thus, superstition is the lash with which 

The priesthood scourge the cowards back, and drive 

Poor, trusting, patient, over-zealous souls 

To abject slavery without recompense. 



IS 



Some grand and noble strides for right we've made, 

And yet, how feeble are our steps betimes. 

The right to buy and sell our fellow men 

As taught by half the clergy of this land, 

(This land of liberty), not long ago, 

No more remains. The awful fires of hell, 

The unquenchable and everlasting fires 

Are dying out ; and yot the cooing babe, 

The tender, helpless, inoffensive child 

So gently fondled in its mother's breast. 

Is lost eternally, if death o'ertakes 

It ere its christening time. Alas ! alas ! 

What true nobility of soul the man 

Poseessed who made this law. What sympathy. 

What tender care and sweet solicitude 

Did swell his heart for loving motherhood. 

Ye Gods ! If he could only feel the pain 

And know the anguish of a mother's heart, 

Who suffers all the torture of the damned 

In bringing into life her first born babe ; 

(Forgiving all at its first cry of life ;) 

And then to see it fade away, and die 

Before her very eyes, in one short hour, 

Unchristened, therefore unredeemed, and lost. 

How agonising is that mother's cry, 

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How cruel is the creed that wrings it from 
Her heart ? Is there no mercy in our creed ? 

And yet another so-called law of God, 

Prepared by men, permits the selling of 

The widow's only cow, depriving thus 

Her little ones of half their sustenance. 

To raise the means to pay another man 

To extricate her husband's soul from some 

Mysterious place called Purgatory. 

And then, the perpetrator of this fraud. 

May walk about among his fellow men 

Quite unmolested, claiming their respect. 

'Tis said the Hindu mother, from a sense 

Of right, or superstitious fear, will cast 

Her babe into the Ganges. Well, what then ? 

Are we improved ? zAre all our garments clean ? 

Not long ago we took the tender babe 

From out its weeping mother's fond embrace 

And sold it into slavery for life, 

To raise the means to send a missionary 

To christianize this cruel Hindu dame. 

Words, dogmas, creeds, how they do multiply. 

'Tis said the Infinite does ever read 

And comprehend the finite, is ever near. 

If this be true, let reverence make us dumb. 

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We are but children on the shore of time 
Each with the shell his fancy pleases most ; 
All playing with the sands of destiny. 

But come, we must away, for life is short, 

And we must unlearn what we've learned amiss 

Ere we can learn aright the laws of God. 

And at our best, and strive as best we may, 

We shall have but attained our alphabet 

In this our weary pilgrimage on earth. 

Tread not upon your predecessor's heels, 

Come up on higher ground, and get a breath 

Of fragrant wholesome air. The path you tread 

Is nothing but a well worn rut at best, 

And popularity is no test of truth. 

Else we should all be pagans to this day. 

Let us away to other worlds than this 

And learn to judge with reason's eyes, and by 

A strict comparison of this, our home, 

With other worlds, discern a shade of truth ; 

Learn something of the great Creator's plan. 

Ignoring Venus, Mercury and Mars 
As neighbors, altogether like ourselves, 

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Also the Asteroids, the little dwarfs, 

We come at length to Jupiter, the giant 

Of this, our solar universe ; a world 

So large 'twould take more than a thousand worlds 

The size of ours to fill his clothes ; and yet, 

He marches 'round this self-same sun of ours, 

And gets his light and heat from it as well. 

Four giant moons, as stalwart guards, to fend 

Him on his way. Twelve times our little world 

Does circumscribe the sun, while Jupiter 

With stately strides, completes the circuit once. 

Now, looking back, we see our little world 

A tiny speck of light, just visible. 

But we must hasten, and to aid our flight, 

Let us employ the vehicle of light. 

Which travels in a second's space of time 

Almost two hundred thousand miles. And now 

Away on wings of light we go apace. 

The next is Saturn, with his rings so fair. 

Just seven hundred times the size of earth 

Behold his eight enormous satelites 

Reflecting constantly the sun's bright rays 

Upon his lovely face. There is no night 

On Saturn's shores ; no darkness there to fear, 

17 



A mellow, lambent twilight there prevails. 
Our tiny world does circumscribe the sun 
Just eight and thirty time to Saturn's once. 

The next, Uranus, in our path appears. 
Four satelites attend him on his way. 
To make a globe the size of this we see 
Just two and eighty earths would be required ; 
And four and eighty years would pass away 
Before he could complete the circuit once. 

The next is Neptune on his lonely way. 
Around the sun in stately strides he goes 
So far away from all his neighbor worlds, 
Yet held in place, and kept upon his way 
By God's eternal, universal law. 
More than a hundred times the size of earth 
Is this our distant neighbor ; and his path 
So distant from the sun, his parent orb. 
That since the christian era first began 
Twelve revolutions only has he made ; 
In other words, if Jesus had been born 
Upon the planet Neptune at the time 
He came upon the earth, he now would be 
A little boy, just twelve years old today. 

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Here now we pause, as did the little bird 
When first with might and main he tried to fly ; 
His eiTort o'er, he looked about and saw 
He'd only reached the margin of his nest. 
And thus we too have only reached the edge 
Or margin of our solar nest, and yet 
If we should undertake to go by train 
Back to the little world from whence we came, 
If such a thing could be, and we could find 
The tiny thing so long since lost to view ; 
Maintaining, night and day, a rate of speed 
Of thirty miles an hour, without a stop, 
Eleven thousand years and more would we 
Require to reach our little distant home. 

But now, our path lies out among the stars 
So far away that even light itself 
With all its fleetness, must be put aside ; 
For we must go into the starry depths 
So far away, that light would fail to reach 
Our destination in a thousand years. 
Henceforth our mode of transit must be thought. 
Electric thought, a flash, and we are there. 
Yet, ere we venture into endless space 
Let us return to our own star, the sun 

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And start from there. Here is a mighty orb, 

The size of which 'tis hard to reahze ; 

Until we make comparison with earth, 

Our Httle home, our unit among worlds. 

This much we find, that should the great supreme 

Creator of the universe, begin 

To make a sun the size of this, today, 

And use a ball of clay the size of earth, 

Another on the morrow, and so on. 

Together moulding them, like potter's clay, 

Thus working in a ball the size of this 

Our earth, each day, except the holy days ; 

Providing that He worked three hundred days 

A year, four thousand years would He require 

To make another mammoth sun like this. 

And yet, this grand old radiant sun of ours, 

From which we gather heat, and light, and life. 

Is but a star itself ; and when compared 

With other stars is but a minor orb. 

Five thousand stars the size of this, our sun. 

Would be required to make a star the size 

Of Sirius, the great '' Dog-star," so called, 

To which, by means of thought, we now arrive. 

And now we are so far away from home 

That ten long years would be required for ligh 

20 



To pass from here to earth ; and yet withal 
The mighty distance over which we came 
Is but a thousandth part of the entire 
And grand dimensions of our universe. 

Now on and out, right through the Milky Way, 
On wings of thought, at lightning speed we go ; 
Sweeping away, while stars on every side 
Diverge upon our pathway as we come 
And blazing with the brightness of our sun, 
A moment, as to light us on our way, 
Converge again behind us, and become 
Mere specks of light upon the ether blue. 
Straight as an arrow is our astral flight. 
Else we should never reach the outer ring 
Of this our mighty stellar universe. 
At length we see, directly in our path, 
a mighty sun, the radiant light of which 
As we approach does fill our souls with awe 
And admiration of its magnitude. 

Here then we rest our wonder stricken souls. 
And shield our mortal vision from the glare 
Of this most radiant sun ; and prime our ears 
To catch the music of the spheres, as they 

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Go rushing by upon their ceaseless rounds ; 
Their everlasting never changing paths. 

As a pedestrian may cross a brook 
Upon the stepping stones, by careful strides, 
Pausing on each his equipoise to gain, 
And gauging well the distance to the next ; 
Thus step by step, at last he gains the shore, 
So we, by careful strides and measured steps 
At length must reach the margin, or the shore 
Of this our stellar universe. 

This star 
Is but our second stepping stone and lies 
As far from the great " Dog-star" as that star 
Lies from the sun ; and as we pass along, 
Upon our star-lit way, counting each step 
From star to star, as they in line appear. 
More than five hundred strides have we to make 
Of equal length, before we reach the shore. 

And now, since we have reached the outer edge 
Of this, our universe, since we have gained 
The last great stepping stone, shall we return ? 
Or boldly step ashore ? Ashore ? What shore ? 
Alas ! Another step will bring us out 

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Upon a mighty sea of blackest night ; 
We stand upon the shore of empty space, 
Empty ? Ah no, there is no empty space, 
Heads are the only empty things, and they. 
Instead of voids, are only poorly filled. 
The space beyond, instead of being void. 
Is filled with waves of light, which fade away 
As we proceed, into a sleepy film 
Of twilight haze, and ytt ere we shall come 
To utter darkness, while our universe 
May ytt be seen upon the sea of space 
Though it by distance may become reduced. 
And its dimensions vast, be so compressed 
That you could grasp it with a single hand, 
By looking forward, we may surely see 
Another distant, hazy universe, 
Another island on the sea of space 
To which we now must fly with lightning speed. 
A moment more and we are rushing through 
The planets of another universe. 
And when we realize that this is but 
Another universe, like that in which 
Our little home, lies hidden far away, 
And that if we proceed our path must be 
From universe to universe forever, 

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O'er seas of darkness, to more dazzling isles, 
That endless is the great Creator's plan. 
Then comes the thought of God's infinity ; 
His glory shines into our withered souls, 
The finite human heart, so prone to pride 
Is meek and lowly, and o'erladen with 
The grandeur and magnificence of God. 

And now since we have gained a little light 
Concerning the Almighty's plan, and stood 
Upon an eminence, since we have seen 
The glorious sun of truth burst forth upon 
Our night of ignorance, gilding the first 
Few letters of the alphabet of God's 
Great book ; revealing to our finite minds 
Enough of His magnificence to crush 
Our mortal lives, and rend our aching hearts. 
And since we've learned our insignificance, 
And gained a reverence for Deity, 
A reverence far greater than is taught 
By any of the so-called sacred books ; 
Let us return to earth, if we can find 
The little mite ; for like a grain of sand 
Among a million boulders on the shore 
Of God's eternal sea is now our home 

24 



To us ; for there is work for us to do. 
Upon that little pebble we call earth 
Are many million parasites called men, 
Divided into nations, and again 
Divided into creeds ; each with a book 
Made by his predecessors, and called good ; 
And for the preservation of his book 
And for the promulgation of his creed. 
He wages sacred war against the world ; 
Nor hesitates to take his brother's life. 

%eligion is the innate longing of 

A human soul to know its cause ; a stream 

Which ever strives to reach the mighty sea 

From whence it came. Religion is a fact ; 

A germ inborn in every human soul ; 

A seed which may produce a lovely plant 

If it be nurtured well, and pruned with care, 

The fragrant flowers of which shall please the eye 

Of man, and fill his heart with love and joy ; 

The fruit of which shall satisfy his thirst. 

Relieve his hunger, aud enrich his soul. 

Yet, left to grow ad libitum, without 

The light of truth, from out the bogs of fear. 

Or on the heights of bigotry, and pride, 

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Or yet within the vale of ignorance 
Beneath a cloud of superstitious dews, 
It comes to naught. The first is but a weed ; 
The second is a thistle, and the third 
Is but the famous, deadly upas tree. 

Theology is the shadow of a fact, 

A feeble definition of a truth ; 

A mere attempt, sensations to explain. 

But not the thing itself. Most men confound 

The shadow and the fact. Facts are of God. 

Theologies are always made by rneri^ 

Therefore we have the errors and the strife. 

Ye mighty pulpiteers, remember this, 
Theologists may differ, but the fact 
Remains the same. Religion is of God, 
Therefore revere the shadow, for beyond 
And yet above it, stands a sacred fact. 

Scientists are the torch-bearers of God ; 
The heralds of his mighty handiwork ; 
Avatars of his universal law. 
Let us rebuild our sacred edifice, 
And light it with a scientific fact. 

26 



Let us henceforth mix some reason with our rites, 

Some realism with our rituals, 

Dissolve a little common sense, and mix 

It with our ceremonies : let us not 

Be fearful of becoming heretics, 

For every man's a heretic away 

From home. Faiths are affairs of local growth, 

And creeds are children of a neighborhood. 

Christ was an heretic to Krishna's creed. 

The devotee of any given faith 

Would be sincerely faithful, leal and true 

To any other faith beneath the light 

Of which the banner of his life unfurled. 

The human race is like a family 
Of fretful boys, whose parents are away, 
Disputing o'er the duties of the day 
And o'er the preparations for their sleep. 

Let us tear down sectarian walls, and from 
The mass of debris choose the finest stones, 
Saving the mortar, Faith, with which to mix 
The strong solution of good deeds, (for faith 
Without good deeds is mortar without grit.) 
And with this matter then proceed to build 

27 



A monument to universal truth. 

(Religion is another name for truth.) 

The base of this our monument shall be 

As broad and comprehensive as the law 

Of equity .? and on the polished face 

Of its four equal sides shall be inscribed 

The motto of our universal law, 

In letters writ with phosphorescent fire, 

Which may be read in darkness, as in light, 

This first above, " The Fatherhood of God." 

Then just beneath, " The Brotherhood of Man." 

The massive shaft of this, our monument, 

Shall pierce the ether blue, above the clouds 

Of superstitious fear, and on its crest 

Shall rest a crystal globe, to represent 

The world, lit from within with God's pure light 

The lamp of truth ; displaying to the world 

Upon the face of this transparent globe 

The mottoes of our creed, Charity, Peace, 

Brotherly Love and Tolerance to all. 

Then let us bring our idols, one and all. 
Images, prayer-wheels, mitre, stole and cross ; 
And from their broken fragments let us take 
Whatever of these virtues we may find, 

28 



Patience, Forbearance, Sacrifice and Care, 

Discipline, Service, Faithfulness and Love, 

Casting aside all non-essential things. 

And mixing a cement of common sense. 

Proceed to build an altar for our lamp ; 

For reason's lamp. The searchlight of the Lord, 

The penetrating rays of which shall print 

Actinograms of every mortal thing 

That passes through its light, and show its worth. 

Thus may we screen the metal from the dross 

And learn to know true merit from a myth. 

Between the altar and the monument 

Of truth, let every man display his works. 

Also himself and all his books, his creed. 

And articles of faith, and every thing 

Whereby and wherewithal he shapes his life 

While here on earth, and builds for life beyond. 

Invite them all, the followers of Brahm, 

The Buddhists, Mohammedans, and Jews, 

And all the so-called Pagans of the east. 

The Hindu with his Vedas, the Parsee 

With his idols, the Mongolian with his 

Prayer-wheel and the Christian with his cross, 

And if upon the alabaster base 

Of the monument of God's eternal truth 

29 



The shadow of an error be but cast 

The man must stand aside, while others try. 

But if the searching rays of reason's lamp 

Find purity of purpose and good deeds, 

No selfishness nor greed, the man shall pass. 

Yet if his book shall stand for aught but truth, 

If it shall sanction slavery, or caste, 

Or bigamy, or incest, or a fraud, 

If it shall sanction murder, or rapine, 

Or hold one cruel sentence, that would shock 

The sensibilities of a little child 

It must be put aside. For know you this 

That purity of purpose and of thought. 

Are needful for the culture of the soul. 

Newman Lighthunter. 



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THIS IMPRESSION OF ONE THOUSAND 
COPIES WAS PRINTED BY THE MARSH & 
GRANT PRINTING COMPANY, CHICAGO, FOR 
CHAS. F. WHALEY, IN THE MONTH OF JUNE, 
EIOHTEEN HUNDRED AND NINETY-EIGHT. 



JUL y ms 



